


Half Crazy

by posingasme



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crazy Castiel, Delusions, M/M, Medical Patient Castiel, Mental Health Issues, Nurse Sam, Psychologists & Psychiatrists, Psychology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-12
Updated: 2015-06-23
Packaged: 2018-03-30 07:45:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3928702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/posingasme/pseuds/posingasme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam is a new nurse at a mental health facility, charged with working closely with Emmanuel Allen, who insists he is a reformed angel called Castiel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Call me Cas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cuddlykangaroo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cuddlykangaroo/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'll say it again. Demons I get. People are crazy."  
> ~Dean Winchester
> 
> “Take my advice and live for a long, long time.   
> Because the maddest thing a man can do in this life is to let himself die.”  
> ~Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra, Don Quixote

The rain spattered against the ivy-framed windows. The gray sky matched the man's pallor far too well. Except for those striking blue eyes, everything about him seemed gray too.

A woman who called herself his wife had visited this afternoon, but the director supposed this would be the last time. It was a sad situation.

"Mr. Allen? Mr. Allen, it's beginning to rain, sir."

The patient looked up slowly. "I've noticed."

"I know you wanted to go into the garden today. I'm sorry."

"Is it a bad idea to go into the garden while it is being rained on? Does it prevent the rain from soaking in properly? I'm quite familiar with physics and botany, but perhaps I've missed something. Gardens are not the same as wild growth. Eden was wild growth before humans fell and began to cultivate it. I'm unfamiliar with most other gardening techniques, I suppose. Physics, though. I can calculate the rate of the rainfall, though I don't suppose that would be useful to the creatures in the garden."

The director sighed. Emmanuel Allen was everyone's favorite, except that he required so much time. "Emmanuel, I just wanted to let you know that it isn't the day for going outside. Not today. You may go to the common area if you like, but first I have someone I'd like you to meet."

The patient's blue eyes brightened. "Is it Meg?"

"Emmanuel, you remember. Nurse Masters had to leave us. Quite suddenly," he added in irritation.

"Oh. Yes," Emmanuel said, looking down at his own hands. "Because the king of Hell came for her. And I wasn't strong enough to protect her."

"No, Emmanuel," the director said patiently. "Because she took a job in Poughkeepsie."

"I'm afraid that's just what you were told," Emmanuel muttered apologetically.

"Maybe so. In any case, I have someone new for you to meet."

"I liked Meg."

"I know you did. But you'll like Sam too."

"Sam." Emmanuel thought for a moment. "Sam? Yes, can I meet him now? Perhaps I've met him before."

They were walking from the room when Emmanuel stopped and looked back at the rain on the panes again. "Daphne isn't coming back again, is she?"

He sighed heavily. "I don't know, Mr. Allen."

"You should just call me Cas."

"As soon as Cas is the name on your passport, Mr. Allen, that's what I'll call you."

He hoped this man did not have a passport. It was hard to picture him flying.

***

The patient looked up at the tall man in the blue scrubs. "Sam!" he cried out.

Sam watched him curiously. "Hello."

"Sam!" the older man said again. "It's so good to see you!"

He laughed kindly. "Well, it's good to see you too."

"But why are you here?"

Sam glanced at the director, who stepped forward. "Emmanuel, this is Sam. He is going to be working with you for a while. Mrs. Allen signed off on that program we talked about in your last session. The one for my research grant. We are pairing you with a single nurse to help you focus a little better. Do you remember?"

The look the patient was giving Sam was one of utter betrayal. "Of course I remember," he snapped.

Sam thought it was best to speak up now. He did not want to get off on the wrong foot here. "Emmanuel, we are going to work together to help you feel better. I'm sorry I'm not who you thought I was."

Emmanuel's eyes narrowed, but this time, there was no anger there, only confusion. "Obviously," he remarked at last. He looked at the director, and sighed. "This is what Daphne wants?"

"It is."

"She is a kind woman. I owe her much. She took me in when I had nothing, even myself." He nodded. "If it is what Daphne wants, I will do it. And anyway," he added, "you remind me of a dear friend of mine that I owe even more than I do Daphne. His name is Sam."

Sam smiled at him. "You don't owe me anything, Emmanuel. But I hope we will be friends."

"As do I. But please. My name is Castiel. I'd like you to call me Cas."

Hazel eyes flicked toward the director, who shrugged. Then Sam nodded. "I can do that, Cas. I'm glad to meet you."

"I'm glad to meet you again too, Sam. I've missed you."

***


	2. Not My Sam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Some madness doesn't act mad to begin with; sometimes it will knock politely at the door, and when you let it in, it'll simply sit in the corner without a fuss - and grow.”  
> ~Nathan Filer, The Shock of the Fall
> 
> “Lots of people go mad in January. Not as many as in May, of course. Nor June. But January is your third most common month for madness.”  
> ~Karen Joy Fowler, Sarah Canary
> 
> “You know, a long time ago being crazy meant something. Nowadays everybody's crazy.”  
> ~Charles Manson

Their first day together was spent watching the rain out the window and playing a board game. Castiel was pleasant enough. It seemed likely to Sam that he had some mild degree of autism, and he wondered about the absence of any helpful diagnosis in the man’s file. Surely someone had to have seen more than schizophrenia. Sam was certain it was Schizoaffective disorder. Just looking at the man’s files, which he had done all night every night for the past week, when he had been given this position, he could see obvious signs of a present mood disorder. He suspected hypomania associated with cyclothymia, but he could not be sure, and he was trying hard not to make the rookie mistake of diagnosing the man before getting to know him.

Sam was not a rookie. He was not truly a nurse either, though he had all the qualifications of one. He was a researcher. When he had learned about this grant project, he had submitted his resume in person. At Stanford, he had switched from pre-law into a forensic psychology program, which was what his B.S. was in. While taking the courses toward his nursing license, he had gotten his Masters in clinical psychology. He thought perhaps he might go on to get his doctorate, but when this opportunity came up, he had pounced on it. He could always turn the research into a thesis one day. For now, he was tired of school and just wanted to help someone.

This Emmanuel Allen was a sweet man, and he wanted very much to help him.

“I’m sorry, Sam. I’m afraid you’ll have to go back to home.”

Sam smiled at him. He was glad this grant was funded the way it was. He could operate, generally, however he liked, as long as he kept immaculate records, and there was no hurry, since it was a renewable grant from a nonprofit called Archangel, which had already committed to two years of research. He had never been in such a good position before, to really study someone and get to know them before being pressured to diagnose, treat and move on to someone else. He felt strongly that spending time with this man just sitting and watching the rain was a critical element in his treatment.

He moved his marker back to the home slot on the board.  The older man was watching him. “It’s no wonder that you don’t remember me,” he said casually, peaking a dark brow and turning to stare at the board in front of them as if there were actual strategy involved. “I suppose I’ve changed a great deal since you saw me last.” He glanced up quickly, then back down. “Of course…I’m still the one who saved your brother. And I did try to save you. It all went horribly wrong in the end, but I had good intentions. I don’t expect you to forgive me. But I did expect you to recognize me. Humans have such fragile minds.”

Sam continued to smile at him kindly. “Tell me more about how you saved me. And my brother?”

He nodded. “It was your brother first, of course. Everyone knew who you two were.”

“I do have a brother. Dean.”

“Of course you do. Because I saved him.”

“Go on.”

“Sam and Dean Winchester. You were legends. Whispers.” He laughed a little. “My wife Daphne would say you were rock stars. She is a quiet, shy woman, but she has a bit of a crush on certain musicians. She explained to me once that rock stars were people who seemed to fly above the rest of humanity, that they seemed a little bit more than human. That’s what you and Dean were. Most humans, you all look the same from our vantage point. Like ants. But you and your brother, you glowed. I can’t explain it. Once I knew who you were, once I had met you, I couldn’t take my eyes off you.”

Sam supposed he should not find that amusing, but he couldn’t help it. “Couldn’t take your eyes off me?”

“Well, your brother is attractive. Don’t get me wrong. Dean is a force of nature.”

He couldn’t argue with that.

“But he was the Righteous Man, the one my brother would take into battle in the final days.”

Obviously not his Dean. His Dean was hardly a righteous man. Sam tried not to laugh at the idea.

“He was corrupted in Hell, and my garrison was tasked with his rescue.”

“Your garrison?”

Blue eyes blinked. “I’m a soldier, Sam. You know that. My brethren and I, we raided Hell and pulled your brother out.”

“Well, thank you for that.”

Castiel reached across the table suddenly, upsetting a few of the game pieces. “Thank _you_.” Both of his hands gripped Sam’s, and his blue eyes stared into his with an abrupt intensity.

“For…for what?”

“No one truly thanked me for that. Your brother…he thanked me and then stabbed me through the chest with a demon-killing blade. It had no effect, of course, but neither did his gratitude at that point. And you…at the time, you were a bit overwhelmed, and I know you were grateful, but…Anyway, thank you for thanking me. Especially after what else has happened between us…It means a great deal to me.”

Strangely, Sam found that he was glad he had said it. This man might be psychotic, but his emotions ran very deep for this imaginary Sam of his. Even if it was all delusion, he was still glad he could give the man a sense of peace. “Of course, Castiel,” he said firmly. “I always try to express my appreciation when someone does something for me. And I guess there’s nothing someone could do for me that would mean more than saving my brother. I’m very close with my brother. I live with him, in fact.”

Castiel let his hands slide away, and he sat back. “Where else would he be?”

Again, Sam found this amusing, because he honestly did not know the answer to that. Dean had never had much ambition to do anything that was purely his. He worked hard and played hard, and Sam was certain he never thought any further ahead than his next payday. Where else would Dean be? Who knew? “Tell me more about Daphne, please.”

The man’s face softened into sadness. “She’s a good woman. I don’t know her very well, of course, but I know she’s always been good to me. It is a shame she filed divorce proceedings. Her friends at the church will likely fault her for that, and I don’t want her to lose them.” He looked up. “Perhaps I could tell her to make it seem as though it were my idea. As if part of my sickness is the bad judgement to leave my wife. Yes. That’s what I’ll tell her. Her friends don’t have to know she gave up on me. They will think that was a weakness on her part. It’s actually a strength. I’ve given her no indication that I will recover, and she gets nothing from me in this relationship. It is far healthier for her to move on. I’m well cared for here. She has no obligations which have not been fulfilled. I want her to be happy.”

“Huh.” Sam thought that might be the most rational speech he had ever heard, and he was shocked to hear it from an undeniably irrational man. “That’s very kind of you. Very understanding.”

“Daphne is a good woman,” he said again.

“Do you love her, Castiel?”

Blue eyes closed briefly. “It is good to hear someone use my name again.” He sighed. “I love her as I love all humans, of course. I’m fond of her in particular. She is a selfless female. She was patient with me in a way I know most other humans never would have been. And I respected her boundaries too. For that, I think she was grateful.”

“What do you mean?”

“Daphne is not comfortable with physical marital relations. I didn’t mind. It’s something I enjoy, but not something I need.”

A soft smile came over Sam. “You mean sex.”

“Yes. We were intimate, but not sexual. Are these the sorts of questions you’ll be asking me? That’s what they all do. Ask questions. As if you can truly learn anything about an angel in this way.”

Sam found this man intriguing. “In what way would you-“

“It’s your turn, Sam,” Castiel reminded him, gaze fixed on the board, and with those words, Sam realized his patient was becoming upset, regardless of his calm exterior.

“I’m sorry.” He released the dice and moved his marker. “You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to, you know.”

“I don’t like to think about how I’ve failed yet another human. Daphne accepted me when I had no one. And now I’ve abandoned her. An angel’s duty is to protect our Father’s most beloved creatures. And yet we fail them at every turn. No matter how I try to fix that, I only make things worse. So, no. I don’t enjoy talking about Daphne. She is a kind woman who is better off moving on with her life, just as Meg should have, and I’m left again with no one. It’s true that it is for the best. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.”

Sam’s heart ached. “You aren’t alone, Cas. I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere. Not unless you want me to.”

Castiel looked out the window solemnly. “I want you to be happy too, Sam. But you were always happiest when you were giving of yourself to help others. If your brother is fine…” He turned quickly to stare directly into hazel eyes. “Dean is fine, isn’t he?”

“Yes, Cas. My brother is just fine.”

He nodded. “I should have asked before.” Then he smiled. “I wouldn’t have needed to. It would have been the first words out of your mouth. Cas, heal him. Fix this.” He chuckled to himself. “The only two humans with their own personal celestial medical kit. When you fought against Pestilence, I…” He glanced back at Sam, and paused. “But you said that wasn’t you.”

“It wasn’t me, Cas. But that’s okay. I like hearing about it.”

Castiel stood and moved to the window, and watched lightening flash in the distance. “I miss my Sam.” It was spoken so softly, Sam had to strain to hear him.

The nurse watched him. Standing silhouetted against the gray window, Castiel was proud and resigned to his solitude. His chin was up, and he was looking out over the storm as if he were the one controlling it. This did not look like a crazy man. Not to Sam. This looked like a man who had been through too much, who had lost too much, and who was dealing with it the only way he could.

At last, Castiel turned again, and though his blue eyes were rimmed in red, it was as though nothing had changed. “Yes. You were always happiest giving of yourself to care for others. And I won’t pretend I don’t need caring for. I’m not what these doctors, what my wife, thinks I am. But I’m hardly what I think I am either. If you benefit from coming to see me, I’ll benefit from you doing so. Just please go when it gets to be too much. Your health is far more important to me than my own comfort. I would never forgive myself if I hurt you. Not again. Will you promise me that? That you’ll leave when it gets to be too much? And you won’t allow yourself any guilt over it?”

Sam nodded with a kind smile. “You’re a good man, Castiel. It would benefit me greatly to come visit you each day.”

He took a breath. “Then ask anything you like beginning tomorrow. Today, I want to just play games until I can let the storm fade out. Daphne leaving brought the rain, but if you give me some time, I can adjust to these changes. Meg gone. Daphne gone. And you here, but not you. Just give me some time inside my own head today, and I’ll be cooperative tomorrow.”

“You haven’t been uncooperative today, Castiel.”

A snort huffed out, but a smile came with it. “I hope you still feel that way after some time with me.”

“I know I will,” Sam said quietly.


	3. Selfless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “My mother used to tell me that when push comes to shove, you always know who to turn to. That being a family isn't a social construct but an instinct.”  
> ~Jodi Picoult, Keeping Faith
> 
> “When a child is ridiculed, shamed, hurt or ignored when s/he experiences and expresses a legitimate dependency need, s/he will later be inclined to attach those same affective tones to his/her dependency. Thus, s/he will experience his/her own (and perhaps others’) dependency as ridiculous, shameful, painful, or denied."  
> ~Dependency in the Treatment of complex PTSD & Dissociative Disorders 2001  
> Authors: Kathy Steele, Onno van der Hart, Ellert R. S. Nijenhuis

“Maybe he’s an angel.”

Sam looked up from his journal. Dean was stuffing pizza rolls into his mouth, and flipping through the sports channels seemingly at random. The younger man sighed and put his pen down. Obviously Dean was bored, and so there was very little chance of getting his work done right then. He wished the man would at least sit down while he didn’t watch television. The constant pacing and lurking was driving Sam to distraction. “What?” he said blandly.

Dean choked down his bite and washed it down with his beer. “I said maybe he’s an angel.”

“I didn’t see any wings.”

His brother shrugged. “Maybe they don’t have wings. Or maybe they can only be seen by cool humans. Or maybe they’re like fairies, and they only exist if you believe in them.” Dean smiled at the screen, but Sam suspected he was seeing something else entirely in his head. “Mm. Tinkerbell.”

“You’re disgusting. Why is it always cartoons?”

This received another shrug. “You want the real answer?”

“No.”

  “Cartoon anatomy doesn’t have to make sense for-“

“I said no!”

Dean laughed. “So? Maybe he’s an angel. Clap your hands a few times, and maybe you’ll get to see his wings.”

Sam leaned on his his hand, elbow on the table. “I don’t think that’s how it works.”

“But you don’t know. You telling me you don’t believe in angels?” Dean snapped off the television entirely and dropped himself into the chair across from him.

This question set him back a step. He frowned. “I don’t know. I guess I do. I pray. I’d like to think there are angels.”

Dean looked amused by this, but he just waited.

Sam gave him an annoyed look. “That doesn’t mean this guy is one. He’s schizoaffective, with a side of cyclothymia, and autism sprinkled on top.”

“Probably what they said about Jesus,” Dean muttered through another pizza roll.

Finally, Sam smiled. “Actually, I’ve got theories on him too.”

“Bet you do, nerd. What’s the one you think I have?”

“Compensatory narcissistic personality disorder. And I don’t think. I know. You also display everything Jung was looking for in an eternal son, and a definite comorbidity with histrionic personality disorder, and a tendency for splitting and lack of impulse control.”

“Now you’re just flattering.”

Sam sighed. “You’re the easiest diagnosis I’ve ever made.”

Dean grinned at him. “Are you any of those things?”

“No. I mean…” He sat back. “I mean, I guess I have some impulse control issues sometimes, but it isn't to the degree of an actual disorder. And I probably have a pretty mild form of generalized anxiety. Coulrophobia, absolutely, although that’s not a recognized disorder. Real as shit, but not a valid disorder.”

“What the crap is that?”

He took a breath. “Fear of clowns, jackass. I’m not going to talk about it.”

It was just like his brother to laugh at something that scared the shit out of Sam. “Right, right. I remember that.”

Before he could say anything more, Sam continued. “I don’t have any actual disorders. But…I guess if I were to…I could be a candidate for a diagnosis of selfless dependency.” He stared down at his journal and waited for the inevitable laughter and chiding.

But it didn’t come. Dean just nodded quietly. “What’s that one?” he asked, and took a sip from his beer.

Sam glanced at him in surprise, before looking away again. “Wouldn’t you rather I explained one of your issues?”

“I don’t have any issues. Historiographic or not.”

He felt a smile tingling. “Histrionic. And yeah. You do.”

“So teach me about your selfless dependency, Professor.”

Sam’s face was heating with a blush. “I don’t…It isn’t something I actually have! It’s just…something I identify with a little bit.”

“I’ll google it if you don’t tell me.”

He was sorry he had not dropped it all with the clowns. “Look, it’s a dependent personality disorder. Millon identified five subtypes of dependency, and one of them is called selfless. It isn’t…I’m not calling myself selfless, like, look at me, I’m a martyr.”

Dean was smiling at him. “I know you’re not.”

A breath of relief expelled as he continued. “I just…sometimes fit the profile, that’s all. I…I tend to need a…”

“A what?”

The flush burned hotter under Dean’s stare. Sam stood clumsily and nearly knocked over the chair, then wandered into the kitchen. He could talk about things like this when they were about other people. But sitting right across from his big brother like that…

“Sammy? You need a what?”

“I don’t know,” he said with a little bit of a whine that he hated. “It’s like with you. When I went away to school, it was Brady and then Jess. Now…now, I guess you again, and probably, to some extent, Emmanuel. It’s just how I am. I need to kind of lose myself in somebody else. I make someone else my whole life. I don’t ever make a decision, even small ones, without thinking how it might affect you…or-or whoever. I can’t really…ask for anything. Even if I know I need it. Sometimes I think I want to be alone, but then I get…I don’t know. I spend a-a lot of time thinking about how I can be helpful to…It used to be Dad, I guess, but…And it’s not really because they need me. In fact, it’s exactly because they don’t need me.”

“You’re trying to make them need you?”

Sam’s back was to Dean now, and he pretended to be looking into the refrigerator. “No, just…trying to make it worth it to have me around, I guess. I’m not nurturing a co-dependency, exactly, but I’m not…And with Emmanuel, he obviously already needs me. I think that…I think I like that. Being necessary to somebody’s health. A therapist is a necessary element of a patient’s stability. I don’t want anyone to need me forever, of course. The goal is always management and, when possible, self-management. But it’s nice to be…necessary.” He sighed and closed the door without having bothered to take anything out. “So there you go. I’m all psychoanalyzed. And exhausted.”

Dean nodded with a small smile. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah. Okay. For being pathologically dependent on me, you take pretty good care of yourself without my help.”

Sam groaned, but the sound came out with the help of relief. “Oh, shut up! Compensatory narcissistic…”

Dean laughed and drained the rest of his beer. “What does that even mean? I think I’m pretty? That’s not a disorder. That’s just fact.”

He smiled too, picking up his research journal. “Yeah. It means you think you’re pretty. I’m going to bed. Try to keep your impulse control issues to a low roar tonight. I need sleep.”

“‘Night, Sammy.”

Just after he closed the door behind him, he heard Dean speak again. He listened through the barrier in silence.

“Sammy, I’ll always need you. There ain’t no me if there ain’t no you.”

A warmth spread through his whole body now, instead of just his face. “Yeah,” he whispered. “I know.”


	4. Day Two Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It is sometimes an appropriate response to reality to go insane.”  
> ~Philip K. Dick, VALIS
> 
> “There is always some madness in love. But there is also always some reason in madness.”  
> ~Friedrich Nietzsche
> 
> “He in his madness prays for storms, and dreams that storms will bring him peace.”  
> ~Mikhail Lermontov
> 
> “Madness is the acme of intelligence.”  
> ~ نجيب محفوظ

Castiel had wondered if it was a dream. Dreams were things humans had, but they were also things fallen angels had, which accounted for why he had spent last night lying on his bed in his white room, dreaming of Sam.

It wasn't dream Sam who knocked at his door then let himself in the next morning. But he was relieved to find that this one was not part of his imagination as well.

This one smiled at him so delightfully that a dimple appeared.

Castiel sighed happily. That dimple was not something he could have imagined on his own. That was something his Father had done, with purpose, before disappearing. Perhaps it had been His last act before walking away from His creations. Everything was going to Lucifer, but Sam Winchester needed a dimple. Castiel giggled to himself.

Sam's smile grew, and with it, Castiel's mirth. "What's so funny, Cas?"

His shoulders were shaking now. "Do you..." He gasped for breath. "Do you ever think God could have spent His time better than when He made you so handsome?"

Sam's eyes widened. "Uh. No. No, I've never...What?"

Castiel tried to control himself. "Good morning, Sam. I'm glad you exist. But really? Why was it so necessary for you to be so good looking when there was evil in the world to smite?"

"Cas, I'm afraid I don't know what you're...what you're..."

"I mean, how important are dimples to you anyway?"

Sam's face was flushing a nice pink. "Not very," he admitted.

"Exactly. I'm appreciative of the extra time spent on your face, but I think I would have rather had an ugly Sam and a smote King of Hell, for example, don't you agree?"

Sam sat in Castiel's chair at the small desk. "So God has ignored Lucifer, let evil into the world, in favor of allowing for vanity and immorality?"

Castiel squinted at him from where he sat cross legged on the bed. "Lucifer is not the current King of Hell, and I do not consider your face immoral."

Sam blinked at him. Then he took a breath. "Were your parents particularly religious, Cas?"

He laughed a little at this too. "Well, my Father was God for most of my life. But I never met Him personally. And I had no mother. I was supervised by my brother Michael, though I rarely had contact with him either. For the most part, I was in a group of brothers and sisters.”

"A group home."

"Exactly." He was glad that Sam seemed finally to understand.

"And how long were you there?"

He sighed. "Most of eternity thus far."

"Your chart says you're in your late thirties. That's not eternity, Cas."

He swallowed hard. "It also says my name is Emmanuel Allen. Please don't believe everything in my file, Sam."

Sam put his clipboard and papers aside. "You're right, Castiel. I'm more interested in what you have to say than what I can find in some paperwork."

Castiel smiled gratefully. "It really is good to hear someone use my name."

Sam's face, that unnecessarily handsome face, was wide open, as if he truly wanted to hear what Castiel might say. It was strange after being told for so long that what he should be thinking and saying was nothing like the truth he knew. Or thought he knew. He had lost all understanding of what truth was anymore.

"Maybe there is no truth."

It shocked him to realize he had been speaking aloud. He didn't like that phenomenon. "Of course there is truth," he snapped irritably.

"There's perception, Castiel. I think it's rare for there to be a single, ultimate truth. Who you are is based a great deal on who you think you are, who you feel you are. It would be misguided of me to try to override what you know as truth with what I perceive as truth."

Blue eyes narrowed to seek any sign that he was being mocked. He found none. He went silent for a moment, then sighed. "May I tell you about my Sam and Dean?"

Sam smiles kindly. "Certainly. Have you eaten breakfast?"

Castiel shook his head. "I sometimes forget that is part of being human. And do you ever tire of urinating? I will never get used to it. The needs of this human vessel are...strange. An effective design on my Father's part, I suppose, but quite odd."

A small laugh escaped Sam's lips. "I suppose it's easier being an angel. But the human part of you does need to eat, Cas. Would you like to go to the common room, or do you prefer I go get you a tray?"

Without meaning to, Castiel frowned severely. "I do not intend for you to serve me, Sam," he said darkly. "Not ever."

There was confusion in Sam's smile now. "Cas, it's part of my job to do that."

"And it shouldn't be. I do not require any such thing. Friends do things for one another. Servants do things for a master. Until I can provide some favor or service in return, I will not allow you to do so for me. That is ridiculous. We've been through too much for you to subordinate yourself in that way."

Sam reached out and touched his hand.

Castiel's eyes slipped closed. It was so good to have that touch, so familiar and from so long ago.

"Cas, I don't consider getting a tray of food for you to be subordinating myself. It's a simple thing. You need to eat. If we are going to be able to do this day in and day out, you'll need to accept my help at some point."

When he opened his eyes again, it was to glower angrily. "I should not need to accept anyone's help. And you...you have given of yourself in so many thousands of ways. I cannot allow you to do so for me, not unless I can do something for you in return." He suddenly clutched Sam's hand in both of his. "I hope you do not see this as a point of pride, Sam. It's more than that."

Sam waited patiently.

"I am proud, Sam. No one knows the extent of my ugly pride better than you. But I'm not motivated by that in this case. It's been so long since you let me do anything for you. Isn't there anything? It hurts something in my vessel's chest to even think of you serving a meal for me."

At last, Sam frowned too, and he leaned back in the chair, taking his hand with him. "Cas, it isn't going to work if I cannot help you. Do you understand that? I'm here only because I want to help you. It's the only reason. If you won't even tolerate me carrying a tray for you, so you can eat wherever you're comfortable, this whole relationship isn't going to work. I'm your nurse, Cas. Let me do my job."

He flinched. His job. That was Sam Winchester all over. "Always looking for ways to get a job done rather than think of what it means for you. What does it mean, Sam, when you categorize people, even those you care about? Dean is the hero, the only one, except perhaps your father, for a time. Everyone else is split into three categories. There's the monster, the ally and the victim. You have no one else in your life. Dean, the hero brother, also at times a monster, ally or victim, and perpetually self-doubting Sam Winchester, saving everyone they can, and one another, but never themselves. Doing for others is what Dean would call your MO, Sam. When was the last time you allowed someone to do for you?"

Sam looked shocked.

Before either of them could speak again, the door opened again, and the director walked in with an intern. The intern carried a tray of breakfast, and he placed it on the desk quietly, scribbled on a clipboard, then hurried away without a word.   “How are we today, Mr. Allen?”

Castiel sighed. “Dr. Fuller, you tend to include yourself in your questions, even though you already know better than I do how you are. I can presume that you have gotten less sleep than you generally prefer, judging by the state of elasticity of your skin surrounding your eyes, as well as the coloration, and I’m inclined to believe you are not enjoying the visit from your wife’s family as much as she may have hoped. In fact, you have come in this morning before even having coffee, which leads me to believe you were in a hurry to leave the house-"

Dr. Fuller pinched the bridge of his nose. “Mr. Allen, let me correct myself. How are you today?”

“I’m fine.”

The older man nodded. “Mr. Allen, how did you know my wife’s family is visiting?” he asked, as though he were not really surprised, and barely curious.

“I thought it was obvious.”

The psychiatrist hooked his thumb at Castiel, but addressed Sam. “This is our resident Sherlock. I hope you don’t have any secrets you’d like to keep.” He rubbed at his eyes underneath his glasses. “He’s right about the coffee. I just wanted to check and see if you two needed anything before I hole up in my office with some paperwork.”

Sam was smiling in a way that suggested he was trying not to. “I think we’re just fine, sir. Cas was just psychoanalyzing my need to help people, and evaluating whether I would be allowed to bring him breakfast.”

“Ah. Well, I suppose I’ve made that part moot. Good luck with the rest of it. Mr. Allen, are you interested in a group session later today?”

Castiel shook his head. “I find myself very frustrated in the group sessions, Dr. Fuller. Inevitably, I say something which even psychotics find disturbing, and it seems to be uncomfortable for everyone.”

At last, the director smiled. “Mr. Allen, I assure you, the staff here at Glenwood Springs has heard absolutely everything at this point. You don’t need to worry about that.”

“I don’t worry about it. It simply makes the session less productive for the rest of the patients. The last one I attended, I was asked to leave after upsetting Marin by suggesting her brother might in fact actually be attempting to contact her beyond the veil, and that it would likely benefit her to carry salt as a precaution.”

“Salt?” Sam said quietly.

Castiel looked at him hard for a moment, then sighed again. “You really do share nothing with my Sam except for your unnecessarily handsome face.”

Dr. Fuller’s eyes widened. “Well, I can see I’m no longer needed here. You two enjoy your day. Come find me if you need anything, Sam, but for everyone’s sake, please don’t need anything until after I’ve had time for coffee.”

Sam watched the man walk away, then looked back at Castiel. “Cas, I don’t think that you should talk about my face in front of the director, you know?”

“There are quite a few things I need to remember not to talk about in front of the director,” he responded dryly. “One of them being the director himself. Shall we continue with our discussion of your need to categorize other humans by the degree to which they need you to save them?”

“Uh…no, Cas. I think we’ll leave that for another time. What would you like to do today?”

“I wanted to go into the garden yesterday. But then I accidentally allowed the storm to become overwhelming.”

“A lot of folks are overwhelmed by storms, Cas.”

He frowned. How could Sam misunderstand everything, even when he was speaking clearly? He knew he got confused sometimes. That was why he had let the storm get away from him in the first place. But he was being perfectly clear right now. “That’s…that’s not…I would like to go to the garden today, if that’s all right. May I eat out there?”

Sam smiled and stood. “Of course!”

“I’ve already showered and shaved. And changed clothes, which…has only recently been something I even thought to do. I’ve lost track of my favorite coat.”

“I don’t think you’ll need a coat today. It should be warm enough.”

Again, Sam was not understanding. “All right,” he sighed. “And may I tell you about my Sam and Dean? Maybe it would serve your memory. Or…or amuse you, if nothing else.” His heart ached. Stories of his humans were not for amusement. They were sacred to him. Gospel. But he did not want to cause any awkwardness for this Sam.

“Of course, Cas. I would love to hear all your stories.”

As Castiel stood off the bed and put on his white shoes, he noticed Sam was hesitating. “What is it?” he asked softly.

“Cas, I’m going to carry your tray. And in exchange, you’re going to open the doors to hold them for me.”

A sting of pleasure ripped through him, shocking him with its intensity. It was the first thing he had been asked to do since arriving in this place. He had spent time at the Northern Indiana State Hospital, but they had transferred him to Glenwood Springs, where there was a bit more comfort to be had. At neither place had he met anyone who was willing to ask him to do even the smallest thing for himself, let alone for them. He had fought for the privilege of shaving himself. Sam was the only one who seemed to understand.

“Yes,” he murmured. “I am.”

Sam’s dimple was back, and Castiel certainly did not mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “It can be very dangerous to see things from somebody else's point of view without the proper training.”  
> ~Douglas Adams, The Ultimate Hitchhiker's Guide


	5. This World Has No End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I have found both freedom and safety in my madness; the freedom of loneliness and the safety from being understood, for those who understand us enslave something in us.”  
> ~Kahlil Gibran, The Madman
> 
> “The thoughts written on the walls of madhouses by their inmates might be worth publicizing.”  
> ~Georg Christoph Lichtenberg
> 
> "Maybe he's normal and we're the crazy ones. Maybe everyone should talk to themselves. Maybe we're all just afraid of what we'd say.”  
> ~Katie Kacvinsky, Awaken
> 
> “Man is certainly stark mad; he cannot make a worm, and yet he will be making gods by dozens.”  
> ~Michel de Montaigne
> 
> “Be silent and listen: have you recognized your madness and do you admit it? Have you noticed that all your foundations are completely mired in madness? Do you not want to recognize your madness and welcome it in a friendly manner?”  
> ~C.G. Jung, The Red Book
> 
> “Oh dear,' says God, 'I hadn't thought of that,' and promptly vanishes in a puff of logic.”  
> ~Douglas Adams, The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy
> 
> Imagine never even thinking, "We are alone," simply because it has never occurred to you to think that there's any other way to be.  
> ~Douglas Adams

It was nearly two o’clock on his second day when Sam realized he was enjoying himself. He was laughing at a story Castiel was telling, and they were sitting in the shade in the garden, with a black metal patio table between them, upon which sat a chess set, and it suddenly occurred to Sam that he was very happy there.

Castiel was chuckling too. “Please,” he said, as he had many times already, “don’t think I’m being disrespectful. I care for your brother a great deal; you know that. But it is sometimes quite difficult to take him entirely seriously.”

Sam snickered. He would enjoy telling Dean some of these stories. In them, they were what Castiel called hunters, and they were battling the forces of evil, and Dean was a hero of epic proportions, while Sam was a legendary martyr. Sometimes, Castiel seemed to hit upon an aspect of Dean’s personality in a way which was nearly uncanny. Other times, he described something so completely out of character for the man that it made Sam burst into peals of laughter, and Castiel smiled even though he did not seem to know what was funny.

Now Castiel was quiet again, and he seemed peaceful for the first time. He stared out at a bee flirting with the flowers for a long while before he spoke again. “Sam, I had an experience after Meg left.”

Sam pulled himself back into therapist mode and smiled encouragement. “Tell me.”

“I was visited by my brother.”

This was a surprise. Sam nodded. “You mean Michael?”

“Hm? No. Not Michael. Certainly not Michael. Gabriel.”

Sam thought back to all of the stories of the morning. “That’s…is that the one who…”

“The one who killed your brother close to a hundred times in rapid succession. Yes. That one.”

“I didn’t realize we were talking about a brother of yours.”

Castiel shrugged. “I imagine it is hard to keep up,” he said simply. “Besides, that story was actually second-hand. I did not experience it for myself. You told me about it much later.” Then he frowned. “Sam, he came to tell me that this world…This universe isn’t what I think it is.”

Sam’s eyes fixed on Castiel then. He suspected this might be important. “How so, Cas?”

“He said he felt me enter this world, and he came to tell me…This world doesn’t need me, Sam.” 

“He said that?”

“This universe isn’t like the others. This world is the only one that doesn’t…Gabriel is very powerful. He has abilities I could not even describe to you.”

“But you’re an angel too, right?”

Castiel laughed suddenly, and it was a strange sound. “I am nothing like what he is. Perhaps in another life I was for a time, but…No, Gabriel is an archangel. One of the four where I’m from. But he came to tell me that he could feel me fight my way into this world, and he could feel where I had come from, and he wanted me to know that this place isn’t like anywhere I’ve ever been before. In this world, Lucifer is just a story. In this world, Lucifer perished in the first war. Raphael submitted to Michael’s law, and Gabriel himself was called the villain, but there was no second war. And there will be no war. When my Father left this universe, all remained at peace, because Michael wanted it so. There will be no Apocalypse here, Sam.”

It was said with such sincere awe that Sam found that he actually felt comforted by the words. “I’m…I’m glad.”

The blue eyes turned to watch him now. “You and your brother were meant to be the vessels of the great battle, and now…Michael has no need of his sword. There is no Lucifer to save you from. Sam, may I ask about your parentage?”

Sam took a deep breath. “I suppose. My parents separated when Dean and I were in elementary school, but we saw my dad every weekend. He remarried, and I have a half-brother in med school right now. My father was a mechanic, and he passed away from a stroke a while back, just as I was graduating from college. My mom lives in Lawrence, Kansas, and she’s a social worker, nearing retirement. Is that the sort of thing you wanted to know?”

Castiel smiled softly. “You knew them both.”

“Yes, of course. I wouldn’t call us _The Waltons_ , but we did okay.” He watched the man sighing. “Cas, what is it?”

He shook his head in wonder, and his smile became a sad smirk. “Sam, I’ve built my existence, ever since meeting the Winchesters, upon the belief that we have free will. That free will is not only a right but a blessing. That God wants us to be free. Angels…angels don’t handle that concept well, and you can see I lost a bit of my sense along with my grace when I accepted it for myself. And now…Do you believe in fate, Sam?” He laughed suddenly, and Sam thought it sounded bitter. “Or do you at least believe in irony? Because I’ve believed in free will, yet devoted myself to duty, because I know the master plan. I’ve lived it, time and again. My duty to my brethren of the Host became my duty to the Winchesters and their battles, because I came to think only Sam and Dean Winchester were capable of seeing what my Father intended. Angels are blind things, Sam. Perhaps the human heroes saw something I could not. So in every world, I sought out Sam and Dean Winchester.”

Sam watched him in silence. The tone was so sincere, and the passion so profound, that he was not sure what to think of all this.

“When I lost my Sam…” Castiel’s blue eyes closed briefly, and when they opened again, there were tears of desperation sparkling in them. “When I lost my original Sam, I lost my heart. I regained my grace, but I would never be whole again. So I promised myself that I would find every Sam, that I would break into every world to find him, to protect him, to see him through his fight against Lucifer, to do what I couldn’t do for my original Sam. I would repent for my failure a thousand times, a hundred thousand, until my grace shattered completely, and I was left to fade away. I thought perhaps…” The tears were slipping down his cheeks now, and he blinked but did not bother wiping them away.

The younger man reached across the chess board to take hold of Castiel’s hand. “It’s okay, Cas. Don’t upset yourself. You can tell me later.”

“No. Sam, no. I failed my Sam, but I’ve saved hundreds. I lost count long ago. And I loved them all. Every last one. My Sam…He gave himself to evil, became so powerful that he snuffed out Lucifer himself when he tried to take him as his vessel, and my Sam took his place as the Boy King of Hell. He razed the earth, pulled down the heavens and lead his demons across the world. He killed Michael, then Raphael, then every angel who dared attack him, and Dean…There was nothing we could do. Our Sam was gone, and Dean just gave up. He has never been complete without you, Sam. He held out for a few years, but…When I knew he was done, I had nothing left myself. I opened a portal, and I fought my way through to another world, and there I sought a Sam who had not yet been tainted, and I helped him say no when the time came. I lived a long time with that Sam, and with every one that came after. Some I helped. Some I saved. One I simply observed. That one…That one didn’t need me. He was the only one…”

As he listened to the story, Sam was struck by how consistent everything was. There seemed to be contradictions here and there, but this was not the tilting reality of a schizophrenic man. There was something very different going on here. The anguish this man felt was very real, and it was far too consistent to be any sort of delusion Sam had ever seen before.

“Every world I fought into, I lost more and more of my mind, lost more and more of my grace, until, at last, I fought my way here, and…and there’s nearly nothing left of either one. I remember too many realities, too many worlds, too many Sams.” He smiled now, almost shyly. “Not nearly enough Sams. But I can’t keep them all straight in my head. Last world, I forgot who I was most of the time, couldn’t remember I was even an angel at all. And I was a different Castiel each time too, especially when I couldn’t remember my true nature. I was always drawn to you somehow, always remembered I needed to find Sam, but sometimes I couldn’t remember why until we met. I knew this would be my last world, Sam. There’s so little grace and strength left, and even more than that, there’s so little Castiel left. Some days, like today, I am clear of mind and purpose. And some days…”

He looked down to see that Sam was still holding his hand, and he clasped his other over it.

“Do you believe in irony, beloved? My last world, my last chance to help Sam Winchester and his brother, and here there is no End coming. No last chance for redemption. And no matter how many times I’ve saved you, beloved, it will never make up for the one Sam I lost, the one Dean I let down. Gabriel said there is no Castiel here anymore. The Castiel of this world was killed in battle long ago. Gabriel told me…He told me it’s time to rest now. That I’ve done what’s right for long enough, and now I should do what’s easy. Just live, he said. As a human or an angel, just enjoy the peace. But there is no peace in a world where you don’t need me, where I cannot prove myself to you.”

Sam stared into the sad blue eyes in wonder. The entire time the man had been giving his speech, Sam looked for inconsistencies, for holes and breaks in the story. He had worked with and studied many, many patients who believed they were something they were not, that they had had experiences which were impossible. Emmanuel Allen was showing none of the same signs they had.

From his own mouth, Sam heard himself say something ridiculous. “Emmanuel, are you the angel Castiel?”

The blue eyes rose to meet his, and they shone with sadness. He smiled softly. “I suppose I’m not anything anymore. But I have been the angel Castiel, and I have been your friend, more times than I could ever count, and I have always loved you, Sam Winchester. Your brother has been my general, and my best friend, in every world, and you…you are the boy with the angel’s heart. My heart. I will always love you, Sam.”

Sam’s training screamed from inside his mind that this was wildly inappropriate, that he needed to end this now, that this position would be ruined before it had really been started if he let this continue. But something else was screaming too. It felt as though someone else’s memory was leaking into his own. As though this man were suddenly more familiar than he should have been.

Castiel smiled shyly. “You know, I’ve done some good in my life. In my lives. And perhaps it’s Gabriel’s influence, as the only other angel I’ve encountered in far too long. But perhaps…It is my grace. I want to use the last of it selfishly. Will you allow me, Sam, to do something I’ve never done, not in any of the worlds we met before? It was a waste of precious grace before, but…I’m at my end, Sam, and…May I help you remember me?”

He closed his eyes tightly, then opened them again. It was becoming hard to focus, as though something were snaking through his vision and blurring it. “Yes, I…Cas…What are you doing?”

“That’s just my want you feel now. If you’ll let me, I can make it all clear. You’ve only known me two days, Sam, but I’ve known you for hundreds of years. Maybe a thousand by now. And if these are my last years, if this is the last of my grace, I want to use it to show you how desperately I have loved you in all this time. May I touch your memory, Sam?”

This therapist and patient relationship was never going to work. Sam had allowed it to get far too out of hand. He would need to resign, he would need to…But he found himself nodding. “Of course, Castiel. If you think it would help you.”

For an instant, Castiel’s eyes shone impossibly bright with a blue made of pleasure and magic. He raised a hand to Sam’s cheek first, then pressed two fingers to his forehead. The act seemed to exhaust him to the bone, and he swayed back into his seat. Tears washed his face anew. “That’s my last act as an angel,” he breathed to himself.

Sam stared at him. There was just a tingling in his chest, which was probably anxiety over losing the job he had been so excited to take.

But then Castiel’s eyes met his again, and Sam took a deep, involuntary breath, like something had punched him in the stomach from the inside. “Cas,” he hissed. His mind was filled with images of those blue eyes, flashing fiercely in anger, in concentration, in fear, in passion. He remembered a whirling angel, with a long deadly blade, floating through enemies like a dancer, nothing but determination and regret in those eyes as he disposed of his opponents. He remembered the licking of lips and the raising of an eyebrow, and Sam’s stomach flipped with a strange sensation of arousal. He remembered the angel’s hand on his forehead, touching his hair so softly, while a needle pushed into the base of his neck. He remembered awkward hugs and passionate kisses, fighting at one another’s backs, and fighting at each other’s throats. He even knew a time when an enemy had been leaning over Sam, and fear had been gripping him desperately, and then it was gone, and all he could see was Castiel standing over him, calmly inspecting a sawed-off shotgun and stating that there was use for firearms after all. He saw a hand pulling him out of a pit of fire, he saw shadowed wings, he saw shy smiles and exasperated sighs.

He remembered.

“Castiel,” he whispered. His heart ached, and his head swarmed with memories that were not his, were some other Sam’s, were a thousand other Sams’. He found it difficult to breathe.

And then there was another figure standing over them, and Sam knew this one too, and he glowered at it, hands clenching into fists. “Gabriel,” he snarled.

***

The angel smirked at them. “Time you two got reacquainted, you think?” He moved his hand over the human, who froze where he sat, a hateful glare on his face. “Look, Cassie, you can’t go around shoving billions of memories into humans. They can’t handle it. This Sam wasn’t built to be an archangel’s vessel. You’ll break your toy.”

Castiel watched him through a veil of exhaustion. “Then what? You’ll undo what I’ve done, brother?”

“No. I’ll fix what you screwed up. I went glancing through some of those worlds you talked about last time we met. You did good, little bro. You did some crazy too, but you did more good. Hard to believe the little uptight soldier I knew here in this universe grew up to be you in another. And I hate that he never learned to enjoy himself as you have, to love something like you do. And you giving up your grace like that just to push memories into a human, you’re only going to live a few weeks if I don’t step in. So I’m going to save your man toy from complete mental destruction and give you a retirement you deserve.”

“How?” he wheezed.

Gabriel snapped his fingers, and a set of folded clothing appeared where the chess set had been. “Start by dressing the part, little bro.”

Castiel smiled through the anguish. “My suit. And my coat. My shoes.”

“And your stupid tie too. Same thing, in every single world. You grew some imagination, Cassie, but you never learned to dress.”

“It was how Jimmy was dressed when I found him,” Castiel explained, running his fingertips over the sleeve of his coat. “I don’t know why. I feel like myself in them.”

Gabriel shrugged. “Whatever.” He snapped again, and Sam and Dean were each lying on a separate queen bed inside a hotel suite. “You won’t have any real power here, but you shouldn’t need it anyway. You should feel as sane as you ever did. Not sure if that’s a good thing or not.”

Castiel tried not to laugh. “What are you doing, Gabe?”

“The Winchester boys have earned a vacation, don’t you think?”

“You cannot uproot them from their lives.”

“Like hell I can’t. More like…like Heaven I can.”

Realization crossed his little brother’s face. “That’s what this is, isn’t it? Am I home?” The hope on the seraph’s face was enough to make even Gabriel’s heart ache.

“Yeah, little bro. You’re home. I spoke to Michael, and he approved the transfer. I didn’t include the part where you betrayed him countless times in favor of protecting humanity.”

“I appreciate that. But does this mean Sam and Dean…”

“Are dead? Depends on your perspective. They died natural, timely deaths after long lives in this universe. When it came time for them to come here…I just upgraded them to the penthouse, or their version of it anyway, and dropped you into it. My penthouse would be a little more _Casa Erotica_ , but this is what I got when I dug around in their brains. There are about thirty-two layers to this Heaven, instead of the usual four or five. Of course, they all came out of Sam and Dean Winchester’s heads, so there’s bound to be some messed up crap in there. Anyway, enjoy. I got a goddess waiting on me back in New Delhi.”

“Gabriel!”

The archangel turned back to him.

“Thank you. You have to know you and I didn’t always…almost ever see eye to eye in other worlds.”

He shrugged again. “You were always on the side of the humans, Castiel. And you were braver than I was. This is just my way of saying thank you for doing what you could to protect them.”

The seraph was smiling at him. “I think that’s the most serious I’ve ever seen you.”

“Okay, then, goddess time! Oh, and in this world? Don’t talk about Gabriel, okay? It’s Loki here.” He winked one of his whiskey eyes and disappeared from this Heaven.

***

Dean was still snoring when Sam opened his eyes. He looked around the room, and tried to determine where he was. He found Castiel standing awkwardly at the window, watching him. “Hey, Cas,” he whispered with a smile. “I’ve missed you.”

Relief poured over the angel physically. “Sam, I am so sorry for everything.”

He rose to reach out to his angel, and put his arms around him. “Don’t be sorry for anything, my love. We’re here, aren’t we? Where you said we’d be one day.”

“Did I?”

Sam laughed, and held him at arm’s length. “Yeah. Every day for years, at the hospital, and every day after, once you were discharged into my care. Dean called you a broken record. He used to introduce you as our ticket into Heaven.”

“Is he all right, Sam?”

“I would have said so if he weren’t.”

A bright smile came over his angel then. “Yes. You would have lead with that.”

“You made our lives very weird, Cas. And now we’re just where you said we would end up.”

Castiel stared into his eyes with unfiltered adoration. “You took care of me all that time?”

“Of course I did. I said I would. How many worlds did you take care of me? Every story you told me, it was true, wasn’t it?”

“You never really believed me?”

Sam shrugged. “Sometimes I believed you completely. Sometimes I just knew you were a broken man who needed me. Sometimes it didn’t really matter one way or another, because I loved you so dearly, no matter who you were.”

“I only remember the first two days.”

“Yeah. The guy in the mustache who lead us here said you might.”

“You mean Gabriel?”

“I don’t know who he was. Anyway, it doesn’t matter what you remember, Cas. The way I understand Heaven is that we have all the time we need to become reacquainted. And this is a pretty amazing place. We’ve got everything we could ever want, and we’re free to wander it as we like. There’s a roadhouse where a bunch of us hang out. It intersects a bunch of Heavens, and the crowd there is pretty cool. I get the feeling maybe these guys were our friends in one of those other lives you talked about.”

Pleasure beamed from Castiel’s face, and it made Sam happy just looking at it. “You’ve been here for some time, then?”

“We’ve been waiting for you.”

Dean stirred on the bed, and stretched his long limbs. When he opened his eyes, he grinned at the angel. “Hey, fly boy. About time you made it. Turns out I lost our bet. You were right about all the angel crap. Isn’t that crazy?”

Crazy. Sam watched the word settle on Castiel’s face, watched a slow smile form around it. “Crazy,” he agreed. “And wonderful.” He turned back to Sam and took a deep breath. “I love you,” he said, as if it were the first time he had done so.

Sam laughed and kissed his lips softly. “That, I never doubted.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed Half Crazy, which is a secret sequel to The Angel Next Door. If you'd like to read Part 1, please find The Angel Next Door in my works. Linking the two would give something away, as I imagine you'd agree. But if you liked this, please consider it both a gift to sweet CuddlyKangaroo and a continuation of that story. If you're confused, that's okay. So is Castiel for most of the two stories. 
> 
> I love my readers in every world.
> 
> ~Posing

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Note: I am combining the personnel, etc., from Glenwood Springs Psychiatric (Sam: Interrupted) and Northern Indiana State Hospital (Born-Again Identity) because...just because. I don’t think anyone would notice, but in case there are hard-core trivia buffs out there waiting to point out that Dr. Fuller was in the wraith episode and not the Hallucifer episode...
> 
> Comments are what keep me writing!!
> 
> ~Posing


End file.
